


Gone

by thehandofathief



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehandofathief/pseuds/thehandofathief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set the second after Inception ends, Arthur is suddenly hit by the reality of Mal's death.  Don't worry, Eames will look after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

She was on every bridge in Paris, sometimes walking, sometimes just looking out at the river. He saw her, definitely saw her, buying a book from a seller on the Pont Marie. He nearly walked out into the traffic to get to her but someone grabbed his shoulder and dragged him back onto the pavement. When he looked over again, she was gone.

Who decided that grief should be hierarchical? Yes, he was her husband but Arthur loved her too. Had loved her. Still loved her. 

Now the job was done and Dom was going home and Arthur was going home and it was over, wasn’t it? He could say her name but it wouldn’t mean anything anymore. Just like that. 

Eames followed him out of the airport and they took a cab to Arthur’s apartment. Eames paid the cabby and Eames pressed his hand into the small of Arthur’s back when he stopped and held his keys and tested their weight and stared for a moment and whispered, “I feel like I’ve never been here before in my life.”.

Arthur didn’t understand but Eames did. 

Arthur felt so tired that it was Eames who pulled his shoes off and turned back the bed sheets. Arthur fell asleep immediately, or so it seemed, but he woke before dawn. He lay listening to Eames breathing and was gripped by that feeling again, like he’d never been here before. Like this was the first time they’d ever slept together.

He washed, pulled on pyjamas, put on his glasses and walked around his home. Home. It felt like a dream but he was holding the proof that this was reality in his hand. Eames had taught him how to load dice years ago, it was his idea of a seduction technique (it worked) and now Arthur was standing, shivering cold and barefoot, rolling sixes over and over. 

Eames watched him for a while, unsure of what to do. 

Arthur was loyal and good and everything it was too late for Eames to be. He ran with Cobb from the day she died and he would have continued running, would have carried Cobb when he grew tired, until the end. He didn’t mourn her, that right belonged to Cobb. Cobb’s lamentations were sacred and untouchable. 

Arthur carried everybody, Arthur worked himself down to the bone, Arthur worried and rang his hands and sometimes he lived on nothing but coffee and he had to judge it all for himself. 

The die scattered across the the kitchen counter and Arthur’s whole body heaved. Eames walked over to him and picked him up, the way parents lift sleeping children to take them back to bed. Arthur stilled and then rested his head against Eames’ broad chest, wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Mr. Eames," Arthur said, like it was the first thing he had been sure of in a long, long time and Eames wondered if Arthur felt his heart skip.

Eames laid Arthur down and took off his glasses and smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead and loved him so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I posted this on tumblr and it's too short for here, I'm just looking for a place to keep things in order.


End file.
